Show Me The Money
by WeatherWatch
Summary: She has always been good at climbing.


**This is a bit different, a bit daring compared to my usual, but you've got to branch out, so here's a limey-lemon for you. Oh, and I mustn't forget:**

Thank you, thank you, thank you to thedoctorsoneandonly for beta-ing. I've never had a beta before – it was an interesting experience!  
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**Disclaimer****: I have no affiliations; I gain nothing but the satisfaction of having written something and perchance a few kind reviews.**

"**show me the money"**

Lavender has always been an expert at climbing.

When she was five she'd climbed trees as if she'd been born in their topmost branches, disappearing up their trunks in a flash.

When she was thirteen, she'd climbed up the rope ladder into Professor Trelawney's Divination classroom twice a week, eager and lithe, yearning for knowledge and praise.

At sixteen, she'd climbed the social ladder to be one of the prettiest, most popular and sought after girls at Hogwarts. She'd spent an idyllic handful of months in love with Ron Weasley, newly labelled 'Gryffindor Quidditch Star', until he had – in a moment of delusion! – dashed her dreams completely by deciding that Hermione Granger was somehow more worthy of his love.

By seventeen and four months, Lavender had climbed her way out of her darkest year, defying all odds and holding onto her life when Greyback had done his best to end it. She was scarred, the most severe of which now marred her back, yet her angelic face suffered only a shallow scratch that reached from her left temple to her collarbone.

And now, freshly eighteen, she was in the process of climbing the professional ladder to social success, taking a detour through the bedroom of a sporting icon and enjoying every minute.

The man beneath her was in his mid-thirties, blonde haired and blue eyed, with a friendly, round face that still held its boyish good looks. He had long lashes that fluttered in carnal pleasure against his rosy cheeks, and his full lips were parted in a heavenly obliviousness.

Lavender allowed herself a smile. He might have been sixteen years her senior, but the man's body was a gift. His skin was lightly tanned, and his torso could have been sculpted by Michelangelo; daring grooves led the eye down to a patch of dusky blonde curls where a perfect (and Lavender believed that adjective wholeheartedly) cock stood to attention, over which she currently hovered, teasing him.

"Fuck, witch," the man said, agonised, looking up at her through baby blues as his hips jerked involuntarily. "Don't be wicked."

Lavender leaned forward and his eyes followed the sway of her breasts before she kissed him ardently, holding his hands on either side of his head, tugging his lower lip as she pulled away, and smiling as he tried to maintain their contact.

"Good things come to those who wait," she quipped sultrily, slowly releasing her grip on his wrists. They came to rest on her shapely hips, caressing as theyran along her thighs and then, hazel eyes holding his bright blue gaze, she impaled herself on his aching shaft.

Twin cries of pleasure echoed in the dimly lit bedroom, and after several thrusts Lavender was flipped into the mattress, the man's breath hot against her neck as they moved together in that most intimate of embraces.

The weight of him between her legs was divine, and she rocked her hips urging him to move faster, her fingers clutching needily at his back and shoulders while his owntrailed down the scar on her face, dragging them right down to her chest before pressing a frantic kiss to her panting lips, and sliding down further to cup her ample breasts, pinching and caressing her pleasure-hardened nipples.

She could feel his teeth grazing the tendons of her neck and, as he quickened the pace, felt a tiny swell of tension grow from somewhere deep inside her as her body began its descent into ecstasy.

His finger pressed against her clit, and then her toes curled in pleasure as the wave of her orgasm swept over her, accompanied by a throaty, feral cry of the hazy aftermath, she was vaguely aware of the finish ofher partner as he collapsed against her, burying his face in her shoulder as he drew heavy breaths.

Soft kisses were peppered up and down the side of her pale throat as he recovered, and Lavender hummed happily as his mouth touched her sensitive flesh.

"You're a screamer," he murmured, smiling into her neck, "but you're a fucking goddess," he concluded before rolling off her. She snuggled up to his side and smiled in post-coital harmony, one hand running over his chest in languid strokes.

"You're not half bad yourself," she commendedhim.

And it was true; a lot of former league players were in dreadful shape, with Ministry workers usually even worse, but Ludovic Bagman had always been the athletic type, first and foremost out of enjoyment (though goblins don't have a sense of humour when it comes to money, so later on it had been out of necessity) but now he was back on the straight and narrow, and as an Ex-Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports he knew a lot of influential people on the national and international stages._ Having been a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps and a member of the EnglishQuidditch team hadn't hurt, either_, Lavender admitted truthfully to herself. But what had really guaranteed him as the vital rung in her ladder to success was his occasionally 'Missing In Action' morality and his talent for loop holes.

And, of course, the fact that Lavender would never forgo the opportunity to have mind-blowing sex with a man on whom nature had bestowed a god-like body and perfect penis.

Disappearing into the bathroom, she uncovered the silk dressing gown he'd bought her, slipping it on smoothly as she tried to salvage her hair and make-up. She managed to erase the smudged mascara and tied her wayward, sex-tousled hair into a messy bun, leaving her neck exposed to the morning air. An arrogant hickey stared back at her, but she found that she didn't particularly mind as she returned at a leisurely pace into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the enormous bed, she grabbed her earrings off the bedside table and was replacing them when she felt an arm slip around her waist.

"Where d'you think you're going," Bagman said huskily, kissing her shoulder.

"Home," she replied, trying to sound firm and intending to drag herself out of his grip. Instead, she shivered pleasantly as he started to trace the tangled web of scars down her back.

And then there was a moment; a second of clarity.

So maybe he'd started out as a step on her stairway to social success, but now he was a fixture in her life. It was like she was in an Escher lithograph, and every staircase led to Ludo Bagman.

She'd fallen for the blue eyed boy. He saw all of her; not overwhelmed by the scars, but not ignoring them either, and to be honest, Lavender rather enjoyed being the sole focus of an older man.

He'd been a mess in his twenties, sure, but her teens hadn't been all sunshine and daisies, either, and when they were alone she genuinely enjoyed it. He was sex incarnate in her eyes and he could be the sweetest person she'd ever met – he certainly gave the best hugs she'd ever -

An epiphany settled over her, even as Bagman crawled closer, the heat of his body radiating against her own flushed skin.

_Bollocks_, Lavender thought, summing up her realisation: she was smitten.

Turning her slender figure around with long drawn out grace, she gently took Bagman's chin and pressed her lips to his tenderly. He matched her gentle lead for a few seconds, and then Lavender peeped adorably as his arms wrapped around her and he drew her back down to the tangled sheets, silk dressing gown and all.

She wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

Perhaps her climb had already ended.

**End.**

**So, I just came across Ludo Bagman again and thought he needed some loving. And who better to give it than Our Lav-Lav? It's a bit random, 'tis true. But still…**

**Please, Read and Review Responsibly.**


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